Life in the very fast lane...: When my mum turned fifty, some years ago now, I ma...

Life in the very fast lane...: When my mum turned fifty, some years ago now, I ma...: When my mum turned fifty, some years ago now, I made her birthday speech for her.   Being chosen to stand up and speak on my mum’s behalf ...

When my mum turned fifty, some years ago now, I made her birthday speech for her.  Being chosen to stand up and speak on my mum’s behalf was not something to be flattered by, it was really because I am an only child, my parents are divorced, and there was no one else to do it!  My closing quote was - “happiness is not having what you want, but wanting what you have.”  It is still my most favourite quote.

The past week has been nothing short of extraordinary in terms of news I have heard and events that have occurred.  There have been incidents of external violence and shock news of illness of one of my dearest girlfriends, who will be absolutely fine, but is going through hell in a hospital in Natal and becoming understandably grumpier by the minute.  This girlfriend is undoubtedly THE most positive person I have ever met, and the fact that she has had transfusions and tests leaves me bewildered, almost as much as it does her.  I have been shocked by potential rumours I have heard about myself, which, although it made me absolutely livid at the time, made me wake up and realise that not everyone is always on your side, not everyone will always like you, and above all, one needs to protect oneself at times from the toxicity of some individuals.

In a roundabout way, the above paragraphs bring me to a realization we all too often say, but seldom put into finite practice: live each day as though it were your last.

In my youth I lived every day as though it were my last day ever to exist on this planet.  How my parents did not land up in a mental institution with a case of severe nervous tension, I will never know.  When I lived overseas, the best days of my life, I lived as if I had nine lives and lived with a belief that I could and would outwit the devil.  My cousin and I were once invited to a James Bond party in PARIS one weekend, and we decided to go.  We had very little money, but what we did have we spent on the train to Gare du Nord and a small hotel – talk about priorities.  There was not much money for food or drinks, so we saved our pennies for the cheapest food we could find – McDonald’s, and with the remaining disposable income, we bought French Champagne.  Again, talk about priorities!

Shortness of money for food did not perturb us in the least - we had a great time, and that James Bond party was a party I will forever remember.  My cousin was Pussy Galore and I was Money Penny – now work that one out!

Last Saturday I had lunch with a wonderful friend of mine who told me I must attend his house warming party in September – in Paris!  Coming back from my sabbatical in Frontier Country, at the moment a trip to Paris would have to be made via one very fast magic carpet, but it does make one realise that there is a whole big wide world out there, and that opportunities, when presented, should often be taken.  A great pity I guess that I am not dating an international airline pilot.

The past week has brought to the forefront of my mind that life is fragile and can be easily broken; that none of us know what, or who, is around the next corner – whoever it is may be a friend, but could also be a foe.  There is a wonderful saying by John Varty, whom I admire greatly in so many ways, but that is a story for another day.  He says, quite simply, “tread lightly on the earth” – and he is completely right.

And so to end with the lesson for this chapter:  Go to the James Bond party; save on food in order to go big on French Champagne; try hard not to bad mouth others as you know how much it hurts when you hear things about yourself that are unkind and untrue; appreciate all you are able to, and be happy to want all it is that you have, even if that is not necessarily having all it is that you want.

Life in the very fast lane...: There are so many things I love about Johannesburg...

Life in the very fast lane...: There are so many things I love about Johannesburg...: There are so many things I love about Johannesburg – the New York City of Southern Africa.   I have spent the last eight and half weeks “r...

There are so many things I love about Johannesburg – the New York City of Southern Africa.  I have spent the last eight and half weeks “re-establishing” myself – my friendships, my family connections, and very importantly, my relationships with the shopping malls, restaurants and cocktail bars I lost touch with whilst away from “the Highveld”.

I thought I had truly missed the restaurants and bars, but it seems they have perhaps missed me more than I had thought.  Whilst walking through a shopping center last week, past what is still one of my favourite bars, one of the waiters popped out and said loudly – “oh hi, you are back!”  I was beyond flattered at his unbelievably good memory – astounding.  Later the same day, I met some girlfriends for dinner at what used to be my favourite restaurant, and still is, and the manager came out and said hello like my long lost friend.  Less than 48 hours later, I was out for a working lunch and two waiters came up to the table to say hello.  Now the question is – are these people all extraordinarily friendly, or, am I a too familiar face to them?  I fear the latter may be true.

At what point do you decide to venture out of your comfort zone of restaurants and bars, and in to “unknown territory” and possible enemy fire and an unknown menu?  Is it a good thing you are recognized and greeted in a licensed establishment, or is it a sign that you need to spend more time at home watching Desperate Housewives?  Being in the hospitality industry myself, surely it is a very good thing to show my support of the hospitality establishments that exist out there that I love so much – surely this is what one could term “good hospitality karma”?

As if that was not enough – I frequent a delightful Café in a delightful center – I have my favourite table (“the star table” – what else? Nothing like delusions of grandeur) and I have my favourite meal.  After what was a tough day in the office, I went to the Café to reward myself with my favourite favourite.  I sat down and in front of me arrived my freshly squeezed orange juice (my attempt at fruit consumption other than grapes in wine) and my best – chicken salad with Parmesan slices.  I looked at the waitress in astonishment and said “how did you guess?” – her reply – “Philippa, you never have anything else” – wow, she even knew my NAME!!  I was delighted!

The question of course, remains – given new beginnings and putting the past to rest – is now a good time to break free of old moulds, to try out new menus and establishments, or, is it best to remain where you feel comforted, where you are known on some level, where you have your favourite table, meal, drink of choice, and where there is a familiar face who greets you by name?  In this ridiculously fast-paced world, should we not extend our friendships to those who dote on us with frequency – in restaurants, bars and similar establishments?  Surely the circle of camaraderie can be widened to include these special individuals who take care of us in their own way?

My view, after much thought on the subject, is a simple one.  There should be no limit to the number of good people one allows into one’s life; so for now, and into the foreseeable future, I will continue to enjoy my favourite table, my favourite fruit juice, and my most favourite salad.

Life in the very fast lane...: It really is funny how children only ever seem to ...

Life in the very fast lane...: It really is funny how children only ever seem to ...: It really is funny how children only ever seem to get ill on a Friday evening, cars only ever break down in the middle lane, and all thing...

It really is funny how children only ever seem to get ill on a Friday evening, cars only ever break down in the middle lane, and all things electrical seem to wait until it is the dead of night to fail and falter.

Our ever necessary electric gate developed a life of its own at exactly midnight last night, and opened of its own accord.  It then closed half way across the driveway, and stopped, dead in its tracks.  For some reason (rather lucky in this instance) I woke up to the sound of the gate, and realized there was something rotten in the suburb of Kensington “B”.  Deciding to take matters into my own hands, I headed out into what felt like the Arctic, clothed in what must have looked extremely interesting – sheep skin slippers that are too big for me; purple leggings, and my favourite grey New York Yankees t-shirt (is my fashion victim sleeping attire the real reason I am single???).  My now long hair looked like a block of two minute noodles, post the two minutes.  And there it was, a gate half open, and a property asking to be entered.  Understanding that it would be unlikely I was able to fix this in the dead of night (or ever), I put the gate on its manual setting, closed it safely, padlocked it, and returned to my warm as melting butter bed.

This morning (rather early) I called my most favourite Mr. Fixit, Lenny, who speaks perfect gate motor language.  He is as reliable as one would wish ones boyfriend to be.  He says he will be at your home at a certain time, and hey presto, he ACTUALLY ARRIVES AT THAT TIME, and all this before 8a.m.!  I hadn’t seen him since my return from Frontier Country, so decided to take a few minutes out of my day and find out what was happening in his life. 

Our catch up chat turned into one of the most fascinating lessons on life, love and not much else that I think I have ever had.  Of course, he wanted to know what had happened in my life, which I skirted around, but said that I was happy to be back in Johannesburg, and was enjoying my family and my friends, and all things social.  Naturally, the conversation progressed onto the subject which at the moment is like the elephant in the room for me… marriage.  Lenny proudly proclaimed, “You know, I have been married in my life for twenty two years!”  My reply - “wow Lenny, but that is good!”, and his reply “yes, four marriages, four divorces – totaling twenty two years!” I could not contain myself.  I laughed to the pit of my stomach, but Lenny was most perplexed – why on earth was I laughing?  I apologised, and told him that I am clearly challenged in the matter of all things grey that sit between the ears, and Lenny seemed to unwind a bit.  The conversation went on to cover how very happy he is now with his live-in girlfriend, and how “all married men” (apparently) want to leave home at least once a week, but then they realise that the grass is not really greener in the other pasture, and if they leave they would have no one to cook for them, and what about the children, and who will put the beers in the fridge?  I explained that this was only outlining to me why I am, in fact, not married. 

Thinking that would be the end of it, Lenny then stated, quite unashamedly, that he would definitely have dated me, but he thinks that I would not want to date a gate repair man.  He looked at me expectantly, clearly waiting for me to say “no Lenny, of course, I would love to date you, even though you are living with your girlfriend”.  I stared at him blankly, begging the word angels to send me a line.  After a pregnant pause suitable for triplets, I replied “well Lenny, I don’t date men who are involved, sorry”.   Lenny looked at me and responded with something not even Nostradamus could have predicted – “Philippa, it’s a spider”.  I was now completely confused.  “It’s a spider luvvy, that’s what messed up your gate”.  I walked over to Lenny and the gate motherboard, and there, on the same said board, was a small spider, fried, and stuck to one of the fuses.  Clearly, in the middle of the night, the spider was looking for somewhere warm to sleep, and accidently stumbled across the fuse box and electrocuted itself.  In so doing, he (or she) also electrocuted our gate.

Trying to change the subject, I said to Lenny that I am quite sure that the spider had a very quick and painless death.  Again, that perplexed look.  Oh dear.

The lesson:  In life, there is good news, and there is not such good news.  In the case of our gate, Lenny, and the spider – the spider had a bad night, Lenny was turned down by a middle aged pseudo spinster (me, in case you are wondering), and I have so far had a great very early morning – not only did I get the gate fixed in record time, but I also learnt that should I ever get truly depressed and think that no one cares if I were to live or die, somewhere, there is a gate man who thinks I am not too terrible!

Life in the very fast lane...: Having spent the last 39 years of my life (which i...

Life in the very fast lane...: Having spent the last 39 years of my life (which i...: Having spent the last 39 years of my life (which incidentally are the only 39 years of my life) trying to avoid conflict of any description,...

Having spent the last 39 years of my life (which incidentally are the only 39 years of my life) trying to avoid conflict of any description, I seem to have failed miserably this week in this regard.  I have a six year old who has more energy than the entire Liverpool soccer squad; who is "stronger" than Hillary Clinton was after discovering the truth about Monica, the blue dress and the Cuban cigar; and who, most unfortunately, was off ill this past week and was at home 24 hours a day, challenging me at every turn.  I have new respect for the teachers on this planet; and I have never longed for a full-time job more than in the last few days.

It seems that mothers and daughters bring with them a whole new dynamic that no-one tells you about until you have had your daughter and then, quite frankly, it is too late.  Whilst I admire my daughter for her absolute belief that the world revolves entirely around her, as a mother, I feel that I am aging rather quickly.

There must always though be a silver lining in the cloud, and in this case, it is two fold - firstly, I have developed a love for all things Penicillin that made her better in record speed, and secondly, I have discovered a new love - that I adore more than chocolate, white wine or even Chanel accessories - HOLIDAY CARE.  Whomever came up with the concept of holiday care should well and truly be Knighted.  I am in awe of this concept and now drive to school with a gusto like never before.  Long live the schools that have this as part of their service offering!

As a side, my newly found social life that seems to come with living in Johannesburg, which is prolific, and which I adore, is not good for my waistline, or, in fact, any other part of my body that needs measurement.  There seems to be this endless struggle - accept the invitation, enjoy the evening or lunch out, love the wine, the food, the conversation, but don't love the fact that the jeans that were once hanging on you, are now fitting quite snugly over the middle part of your body.

I heard once that you can eat, or you can drink (wine, not water), but you cannot do both.  Of course, I would like to do all of the above - after all, it is just such good fun.  I have given this a great deal of thought however, and I think I may have found the answer - starve on my off-social days, and life live during my on-social days.  The problem though is that the starve days may be so dismal, that I may want to convert more days to social days.

I was busy having this debate in my head this morning whilst forcing my jeans closed, when my same said daughter proclaimed, "mummy has a big bum bum".  I was mortified.

The lesson:  Always, always ensure you complete those holiday care forms on time!!!